"Angel?" Frisk repeated blankly. Frisk recognized her. She knew she did, but... she still couldn't remember where she knew her from.
"Frisk?" Opal asked, as she entered the small foyer behind her. She examined both her 'sister' and the raven-haired girl standing across from her."Do you know her?"
"She recognized you," said a familiar, but also not quite place-able, older woman with similar jet black hair and a wistful expression on her face. "Do you know her? Do you know me?"
Frisk blinked at them, quite at a loss as to what to say. She... did and she didn't?
"I'm sorry, who are you?" asked Mr. Oxtoby, completing the gathering that was much too large for the small entryway the group.
"She drew you," the woman insisted, leading them through the foyer into the Meade's dining room. There, sitting on the table, was a sheet of paper.
Frisk walked over to the table and felt her eyes go momentarily wide. It was a good drawing, done with colored pencils. It was of a brown, empty field, with a crescent moon overhead. But in the opposite corner of the moon was Frisk's first shock... the emerald green death's head, with pale circular green eyes, but the real attention-getter was the four figures – four figures she recognized. Front and center was Mom – Toriel, a golden halo encircling her white goat ears. She was staring at the viewer, with her green eyes and smiling, compassionate face. Standing next to her were the three children, Asriel and Chara, both wearing their matching school robes, with a small little red symbol – probably to indicated Gryffindor hourse. And there, on the side, was - her.
She looked up, realizing now where she knew them from. She had seen them, the night of the Quidditch world cup. They had stayed at their husband's camp grounds... where the family had been attacked in the middle of the night by Death Eaters.
Frisk remembered the night, now, vividly. The girl – hearing that she was to have her memory modified for her own sanity hadn't wanted it. She had wanted, badly, for magic to exist. And, right after having seen proof, despite all of her pleading, the Ministry of Magic had ripped that knowledge away from her.
And yet... it looked like they left something behind.
Frisk blinked away her surprise, trying to force a neutral expression as she backed up from the table as everyone else gathered around it. She looked up at the woman questioningly.
"She drew you..." she repeated, almost despondently. "I'm Mrs. Roberts." She paused, hoping that it would jog someone's memory, and it did.
"We... stayed at your campsite last year," Mr. Oxtoby said, slowly, "For that SCA event."
"Yeah. You and a few hundred other people. It was the most money we'd made all year, probably in a few years. But... it was that weekend as far as me and my husband can tell, when Anne just... changed. She became quiet... her grades has slipped... it's terrifying, and she won't tell me why. When Mr. Macintosh took out the advert about that weird adoption form... what did it say? Dreemurr?"
Mrs. Oxtoby coughed politely, as Frisk had to blink her shock away. "We have no idea where that came from," she said. "I think you've seen the proper one by now, right, Mr. Macintosh?"
"I have," he agreed.
"That doesn't matter... when I saw the description of... Frisk, right?"
Frisk nodded, saying nothing. But her mouth was drying out as she stood there, she could physically feel her heart sinking.
"When the description matched so perfectly," Ms. Roberts said, her voice faltering, "I thought you might be able to... maybe shed some light..." her voice trailed away. Frisk could see the tears glistening in her eyes. She... she had no idea.
And Frisk could not help her. Not even if she wanted to, and she wanted to. But if the problem was the memory charm that had been placed on her, Frisk had no way of removing it. If it was something else, then Frisk was at a complete loss. She couldn't hint that she knew what the problem was. Frisk didn't care about the secrecy laws, but there were others around her that probably did. Opal might have had it easier, it seemed she genuinely didn't know what had happened. And if either of the Oxtoby's had figured anything out, their concerned faces showed no hint of it.
Mr. Meade picked that moment to come out of the kitchen. "The pizzas are ready," he proclaimed.
On any other day, Frisk would have thought there were some delicious smells coming from his direction. Right now, though, her mouth tasted like ash, and her stomach was tied in knots.
He looked at the large party assembled in his dining room. "We'll need to spread out between the dining room and living room, there's not at all enough room in the dining room for all of us."
"Mr. Meade?" Frisk asked. "Where's the restroom?"
"Hm?" Mr. Meade said, glancing in her general direction before disappearing back into the kitchen, "Just around the corner there."
"Frisk?" Opal whispered, "Are you feeling okay? You look pale."
"No," was Frisk succinct reply. She hurried toward the indicated doorway, locking the door behind her. What was she going to do? What should she do? She pulled her phone from her pocket and stared at it for what felt a very long second.
She wanted to call Mom, but there was something stopping her. Problems were easier solved when shared, and there was exactly one problem she hadn't wanted to talk to Mom about, and that was unique (how do you talk to someone about bringing her dead son back to life?). But.. what would be served by her calling her mom right now? There wasn't going to anything she could do, Mom was up in Hogsmeade with her siblings. And if she spent too long talking... she might get caught.
Frisk took a breath and put her phone away.
She pressed against the counter with her hands, and looked up to the mirror, her own reflection staring back at could almost feel Chara's thoughts bubbling at her, the way they had in the underground.
You're still you, you know.
So what could Frisk do? She didn't know yet. She stared at her reflection for a moment. But she'd figure it out. There had to be a way to bring Anne back to herself. "I promise," she whispered, "I promise I'll find a way to bring you back to yourself." It felt oddly familiar, actually. At the end of her very first loop in the underground, she'd made a very similar promise. And she'd done it... if it'd taken a year of 'real' time... and nobody really knew how many loops. It occurred to her that there was one thing she could, and should, do now, to make sure she could keep that promise.
She flushed the toilet, and washed her hands, and came out to find people had taken pieces of pizza to various places in the Meades' home. Her eyes were drawn to Anne, sitting nearly alone with only her mother at the dining table. She was just picking at her food, causing Frisk's heart to ache again. She went to get her own dinner, then sat down at the table across from Anne.
Anne looked up at Frisk, tilting her head. Frisk got the sense that there was something tickling the back of her brain, trying to convince the other girl that she knew Frisk. It was almost disconcerting the way she just stared at her. It was... the opposite of Luna, she was hyperfocused on Frisk.
"Hi," she said, her eyes half-lidded, and giving a soft smile. "I'm Frisk."
Anne didn't reply, she just kept staring that unnerving, almost unblinking, stare.
"She doesn't talk much, anymore," her mother said.
"Anne, right?" Frisk asked. "Can I see the picture again?"
Anne broke off her staring. "Yes. I'm Anne," she said quietly. After a second, she realized she'd been asked something else, and looked over the table, before pushing the drawing over toward Frisk.
Frisk made a production of looking over the picture again, thinking rapidly, then looked up at Anne. She pointed at her drawing of Chara. "Do you know who that is?"
Anne shook her head negatively.
"Do you mind if I take a picture of it?" Frisk asked. "Opal would have said something if she recognized the other person..." Frisk forced herself to speak evenly. She hated lying like this. "...but maybe I can find someone who does?"
Anne shrugged.
"That would be very nice of you, Frisk," her mother said.
"And... in case I do, may I have your phone number?" Frisk asked, gesturing at her own phone, as if to demonstrate. "...both of yours?" She'd also have to remember to get Tony's phone number... if Alphys's hack could do international calling.
Ms. Roberts looked surprised and a bit uncomfortable, and looked at the Oxtobys, talking with the other adults, then back at Frisk.
"Mom will be okay with it," Frisk said, soothingly, "she knows I like to help people. Maybe Anne would just like someone more to talk to?"
"Alright, Frisk," Ms. Roberts said finally, and listed two phone numbers. One for her, and one for Anne. Frisk gave her number in response. "I'll make sure Anne puts it in her phone. Thank you for doing this, Frisk. I had hope..." she trailed off.
"Do you remember me?" Anne asked. She picked at the piece of pizza in front of her. "I keep thinking I should remember you, but I don't. Do you know why?"
"I think so, at least a little?" Frisk said, shifting uncomfortably. "I think I remember you from when we checked out of your father's campsite. But that was it."
"Frisk," called Mr. Oxtoby. "You should be eating. You do have an early train tomorrow."
Frisk pulled her plate towards her. As she ate, she tried to figure out both how much she could safely say, and who she could safely say it too. As she sat and thought, she could hear Opal and Tony talking behind her. Frisk looked into Anne's eyes. "I promise I'll call you," she said quietly, "if I figure anything out about that picture."
"Alright," Anne said.
"Frisk," said Mr. Oxtoby from right behind her, and Frisk jumped in surprise. "Sorry, it's time to go."
Frisk picked her phone off the table, and followed Mr. Oxtoby out the door. "Wait," she said, "am I going to see Tony tomorrow?
"We're going to have breakfast together on the way to King's Cross," he said. "But we have to make sure you get back to school on time."
So she said her goodbyes, and got in the car with the Oxtobys, She didn't say anything as the car pulled out of the driveway. She watched out the window as the Roberts got into their car, heading out the other way.
"What was that all about? Opal asked, "Who were they?"
"Do you remember the world cup, and what happened afterward?" her mother began. It turned out, Mrs. Oxtoby had taken Opal and her husband to the forest near the campsite to hide, and so they had never actually seen what the Death-Eaters had done to the Roberts. Mrs. Oxtoby had read about what happened in the Prophet.
Frisk, of course, had been there, and filled in gaps in the official story.
"So they saw the dark mark?" whispered Opal. "And were... tortured?"
"And after being saved, they were obliviated," finished Mrs. Oxtoby, Frisk could tell she was trying to be calm, but she wasn't, not quite. "In line with statute of secrecy. The ministry was right, they had to do it." She paused. "Complications like Anne aren't common. But it is more common in children, since they're more likely to believe in things like magic, and have active imaginations."
"She always wanted magic to exist," Frisk said. "She begged to be allowed to remember. She probably remembers Mom... Toriel saving her from falling, and being with her... uhm, well, she doesn't remember, and..." Frisk let the sentence trail away into the silence. For a while, the only sound was the wind coming through Mr. Oxtoby's open window. "Mrs. Oxtoby?" Frisk asked. "Do you know how to remove a memory charm? It can be removed, right?"
Mrs. Oxtoby didn't immediately reply.
How many times did she hear it had been broken on Bertha Jorkins? Six? Ten? She'd lost track. But that had been through torture... and that wasn't an option for Frisk. But if it could be broken one way, surely it could be...
"I think so, Frisk," Mrs. Oxtoby. "But Oblivation is a NEWT level charm, and I never learned it. Maybe a memory potion would do the trick? But I'm not sure. It's not something we ever covered. But Frisk, you cannot do that, you cannot even think of it. The ministry will..."
She sighed, looking in the backseat at Frisk, before sitting forward in her seat again. "You know, that's speech isn't for me." She looked over to her husband, driving the car towards the motorway. "There are members of the magical community who thought I was insane for marrying someone without magic. They told me he'd leave me the moment he found out I was a witch, and then he'd have to have his own memory erased." She smiled. "Obviously, that didn't happen. Some people really are more accepting of things they don't understand then you might think. Heh, I guess you might know something about that."
"I guess so," Frisk said, as she looked moodily out the window as Mr. Oxtoby drove the car back toward their home.
The next morning found Frisk, the Oxtobys, and the Macintoshes in a restaurant with the appropriate name of "The Breakfast Club". The adults in the group looked like they were sharing a private joke, but they didn't tell the kids what it was.
It was a bright and warm Sunday morning, which really didn't match the way Frisk was feeling. As good as it had been to see Tony, the reality of both of their situations, Anne, and Tony, were weighing on her mind. She had been silent most of the morning, only speaking to place her order from the menu.
"I know we've been avoiding it all weekend," Mr. Oxtoby said, "But, may I ask where you go from here, Tony?"
Tony was sitting in a chair, his wheelchair folded up against the wall. "I think we fly back to the states in a few days, and I get to have another round of chemo." He took a deep breath. "They're not holding out much hope, though. I think it runs through the end of the year."
"That's right," Mrs. Macintosh said. "Frisk... it's been really good to see you, I'm glad that we had a chance to come back before..."
"You know... you could come back at Christmastime," Frisk said quickly, before Mrs. Macintosh's tears could take hold. "It's, it's only a few months. You can make it to Christmas?" Frisk was trying, but failing, not to stare at her one time brother. "Please say you can make it to Christmas. It'd... be okay, right?" she said, turning to Mr. Oxtoby.
There was silence around the table as everyone digested what Frisk had asked. Frisk felt Opal dig into her side, but she ignored it.
"Yeah... I can try to make it until Christmas." Tony looked to Frisk. "I promise. I promise I'll make it to Christmas."
"If you can make it back, we would be happy to have you," Mr. Oxtoby said, smiling at the two children. "We'd do better with longer notice. We can have a big happy Christmas."
They talked a bit longer, but it was soon time to get them to King's Cross. The train to Scotland would take eight hours, plus a transfer, so even though it wouldn't really take that long to get to Hogwarts, they had to take a morning train. At least the platform wasn't crowded... they were two of only a few people on the train, and managed to get seating away from everyone else.
Frisk's face was plastered to the window as the train began to move, watching as the people on the platform grew smaller and smaller, until the train completely left the station, and Frisk couldn't see them any more.
"Frisk," Opal said, as Frisk pulled out her cell phone. "Did you really not want to spend Christmas with your actual family? Won't your mother be upset?"
"I think they'll be okay... they know how much this means to me," Frisk said. There was a way to forward a picture via text message with this phone. Alphys had sent things to her, but it took Frisk time to figure out how to do it herself. But once she got the knack, she sent two pictures to her mother. One was the picture Mrs. Oxtoby had taken of her with the Macintoshs... but the second was Anne's drawing of her family.
It took less than thirty seconds for Mom to call her. Frisk counted. She wanted to know everything about Anne's predicament. "I remember her clearly," Toriel said. "She was terrified of having her memory modified." And when Frisk asked if she might be able to help her, Toriel said she would. "Absolutely. I'm not going to pick the statute of secrecy over a damaged child, especially if she remembers us anyway." Toriel said. "I'll see if I can find anything in Diagon Alley about it. Though, if it's as complicated as Mrs. Oxtoby says, it might be restricted. I'll do my best though."
Over the time it took to reach Sheffield, Frisk went over every detail of the past weekend. In return, Toriel told her of the things that she, the other monsters, and her siblings got up to in Hogsmeade over her weekend.
"Did Frisk seem odd to you?" Tony asked, as his mom pushed him in the wheelchair back towards the parking lot.
"In what way?" his father asked.
Tony wasn't quite sure. There was something about it all he couldn't put his finger on. "She seems more open then she was before. I remember what she was like when we first fostered. She said that she didn't remember..." his mind flailed, trying to remember the name of the other girl.
"Anne," his father told him. "Anne Roberts."
"Anne," repeated Tony. "Frisk was really concerned about her – someone she didn't know. I don't think she would have sat next to her like that, not when she first came home with us."
"People do change, Tony, and it's been a few years."
"And there was that sudden outburst at breakfast..."
"I think she just wants to see you again," his mother said gently.
There was more than that, he was sure of it. Why had there been that name, "Dreemurr" on the adoption form? He'd seen her surprise when Ms. Roberts brought it up, it was a word that had some sort of meaning for her. A name?
"Do you think Dreemurr really was just a mistake?" he asked.
"Yes," His father said in surprise, "Why do you ask?"
"Oh. Uhm, No reason..." Tony stammered out. There was, in fact, an easy way to find out. Maybe he'd just ask her. She had given him her cell phone number.